Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.
Loch Leven Half Marathon
by Russell Turner - 20:12 on 10 May 2026
Another half marathon done, but they’re definitely getting slower. I’ll blame the recent virtual marathon, although lack of proper training, increasing age and general rubbishness probably played a greater part. I’d hoped to circumnavigate Loch Leven in under 2:20 – 2:15 if I was on form; in the end I crossed the line with a chip time of 2:29:54, so at least I smashed the 2:30 barrier.
I arrived in Kinross yesterday in the rain (of course, as I’d washed Big Blue before leaving) with Gerald the Biker Bear in the passenger seat. The weather was of no concern: today’s forecast was dry and mild with a gentle breeze. The M90 Travelodge isn’t the swishest establishment but it was handy for reaching race HQ and the cost for two nights wasn’t exorbitant, unlike the hotels and B&Bs in the town itself.
The rain had ceased by the time I’d settled in so I walked the route to HQ, to exercise the legs after the journey and ensure I knew where I was going today, hoping to find somewhere tasty to eat on the way back. Unfortunately, the 1.2-mile, 20min route was exclusively through residential streets, and I wasn’t in the mood to explore further, so tea was a bedroom picnic from the Marks & Spencer concession at the services, Burger King, Greggs and Costa failing to tempt my tastebuds. The Travelodge is one of the non-food ones.
Sleep was spasmodic but by the time I was dressed and had feasted on an energy bar I was ready for action. The sun was an unexpected bonus, as was finding one of the last parking places outside race HQ (Loch Leven Community Campus). From there it was another 1.2-mile walk (which failed to feature many dining opportunities) to the actual start off an industrial estate, site of a few hundred people milling around and doing runnery stretching, which I joined in. The real runners were doing jogs and sprints. I didn’t.
As 9am neared we left the milling site for the start proper, which featured a random car parked right on the start line, marshals having failed to find its owner. I took my accustomed place near the back, chatted to a couple of people and observed four youths who appeared to have entered for a dare. None of them looked totally optimistic.
A hooter sounded a little after 9am and we were off, past the random car, out of the industrial estate, right on to High Street where a few locals were there to cheer us then out on to closed country roads, running in a higher than expected temperature. Conditions are never perfect.
The first seven miles were good despite mild but regular undulation: I mostly maintained my hoped for pace (around 10:30-40 min/mile) without the inspiration of the loch which could be occasionally glimpsed on the left. We weren’t running around the shore so I mostly saw the tarmac a few feet in front of me. Things got tougher at Scotlandwell, after 7.5 miles and I walked part of the first (to me) serious incline.
Climbing continued off and on for the next two miles; a few rustic villages and knots of supporters weren’t enough to inspire me. More walks happened. Even after 10 miles, when the undulation returned to its earlier style, I was unable to pick up the pace. At least I was coping better than the guy being nursed around by two friends in a run-walk-stop-repeat effort. “If the gels make you feel sick, don’t take them,” I heard him being told. Running isn’t for wimps.
I plodded on, at around 11 miles overtaking one of the four youths, who not long after overtook me while I walked. This continued for a while until we swapped the road for a brief track which emerged into residential streets. Along the way our walks coincided enough for me to learn that he was ahead of his mates, all on their first half marathon. He’d been the only one to train. Enough said.
We parted maybe half a mile from the end when I ran ahead, keen to finish in under 2:30. I don’t think he cared. I wasn’t around to see his friends finish. Shame.
My reward was a wooden medal, water, banana and a Loch Leven buff. I’d declined the shirt at sign-up. After a shower at the Travelodge I wandered over to the garden centre next door in the unrealised hope of a Sunday roast so settled for a very tasty chicken and ham penne in a Stilton sauce. A few veggies would have been a nice addition, though. The rest of the afternoon was spent watching Mamma Mia! on the TV (always a worthwhile couple of hours) and trying to stop cramp attacking my legs. Some people get it while running; I suffer afterwards.
It’s a thumbs up for the Loch Leven HM, staged by Kinross Road Runners, even if I didn’t see much of the loch. The route was picturesque (if you’re not struggling) and the organisation exemplary. Once is probably enough, though. For the rest of the year I’ve no more than 10ks planned. I think I’m due a rest.
Add your comment
© Russell Turner 2008-2026